that probably explains why there was no second date

[thehefner]

So I recently realized what may have gone wrong with my attempts to court the cute hippie chick. Having her over to my house wasn't the biggest mistake, nor was my decision to show her THE NINTH CONFIGURATION. And I know many of you are rolling your eyes at that one, but no, it wasn't as stupid a choice as it might seem. I chose it for a very good reason that pertained to her interests! I just don't remember exactly why. But that's all besides the point.

No, I think the main flub of the evening came when we were on my bed, watching the movie and getting close, and I noticed she had a tear in her jeans. This particular tear was way, wayyyy up at the very top of her legs, an inch or so higher than Daisy Dukes would be, had they been cut off all the way. You know, a tear that revealed a nice window to her butt.

So in an attempt to be witty and flirty, I pointed to the tear, smiled, and remarked:

"I like your butt hole."

...

It was weeks before I realized what I said.

Clearly, I need to work that into a story. I just don't know where.

Comments

[suburbfabulous.livejournal.com]

Your selling point should always be simple:
If they are very lucky, you will let them be seen with you.
Tip: Save the flailing for at least the third date...unless she's a cancer victim looking for that final score. Then? Fuck it. Rock out like you've got Huntington's chorea. And bill the estate for services rendered.
Another tip: no stories involving fecal matter, brutal relationships, or how great you are until at least the fourth date. Only *I* have ever gotten away with being a completely self-absorbed prick, and it didn't work for very long. (Thankfully, she was lying about the pistol permit.)

[kali921.livejournal.com]

Your selling point should always be simple:
If they are very lucky, you will let them be seen with you.

No, no, no. It's the other way around. You are lucky to be seen with her.

I must respectfully disagree, or at least explain.

[suburbfabulous.livejournal.com]

I fear I may have been unclear; my enthusiasm for trying to help can sometimes ruin the efforts themselves.
The man must be (or seem, or at least believe himself to be) a paragon in some field or other, damn near the top if not the Goddamned Batman, and he must swipe chunks of this confidence, smear it all over himself, and approach in absolute Zen.
(Given Hef's accomplishments as a storyteller, bon vivant, and suave SOB, this part is going to be easier than he thinks.)
If she says no, it is not the end of the world.
If she says yes, it is not the rebirth of Spock.
He must make himself desirable, and the best way to do that is to polish the merchandise as much as possible (and that is NOT a euphemism for masturbation, FYI.)
It is a tightrope covered in chicken grease, and it is to be walked in pink fuzzy bunny slippers...OVERSIZED pink fuzzy bunny slippers.
Otherwise, our boy will squee in public. That's the sort of frenetic outburst that we're trying to avoid.

[thehefner.livejournal.com]

Clearly, for both you and Kali, I'm gonna need to post my latest Hefnerian story. Because I have gotten better since, but it... well... you'll see.

[suburbfabulous.livejournal.com]

Oh, do tell.

[thehefner.livejournal.com]

A couple more things need to fall into place before I can finally do it. Also, I'll need to make a custom friends lock. But yeah, hopefully it'll pan out soon. Eyes peeled, pally.

[suburbfabulous.livejournal.com]

I gave you (and a small number of other Inner Circle types) your own filter ages ago.
It's just what one does.

[kali921.livejournal.com]

Hop to it!

[thehefner.livejournal.com]

Like I said, there's just one or two more things that need to pan out. It may be a week, or a month, but if it all works out... then oh yes, I'm going to very much want your opinions.

Heh heh heh.

[suburbfabulous.livejournal.com]

And you shall have them.
Guthrie swears it.